Dandy Jim and the Blushing Bride
by MaverickLover2
Summary: Bart Maverick risked his life to save his fiancé, Doralice Donovan. His recovery is slower than expected, which leaves a wedding on hold and a saloon that needs some help. Enter Dandy Jim Buckley, old friend and all around scoundrel, who does his best to help – himself.
1. Off to a Rough Start

Chapter 1 – Off to a Rough Start

I opened my eyes and for the first time I knew where I was – the bedroom that Doralice and me occupied in our house. It wasn't the first time I'd opened my eyes in a while – just the first time I recognized my surroundings. I tried to roll over, and the pain hit me like I'd been caught underneath a cattle stampede.

"Don't, Bart – let me help you."

What a joy it was to hear that voice – no matter how much pain I was in. "Doralice?" It came out as a raspy-voiced whisper, but at least it was audible.

"You're awake!"

"Don't usually talk if I'm not."

"Oh, Bart . . . you don't know how I've waited to hear you say something."

Doralice helped me turn sideways in bed, and I got to see her beautiful face since . . . I don't know when. She looked tired. "Been here long?"

"Almost two weeks."

Two weeks? Had I been . . . I couldn't have been . . . two weeks? "I've been here . . . "

"Dr. Petry had you for almost five days before he'd let them move you. You been here since then."

"Unconscious?"

"No, not all the time. You'd open your eyes and lay there, just lookin' at nothin'. But when I talked, you didn't answer. Today's the first time . . . " I saw a tear slide down her cheek, and I tried to reach up and wipe it away . . . again, that awful pain. She wiped it off with the back of her hand while she told me, "Don't. The bullet got your lung pretty good. Simon's had you on laudanum all this time, just so you could heal some before you started tryin' to move around."

"No wonder." It tasted like pigs had been rootin' around in my mouth.

She figured out pretty quick what I meant. "Promise me you won't try to move by yourself and I'll get you some tea. And don't even ask about coffee; the answers no."

"Honey."

"In the tea? Sure."

I watched her walk out of the room and then closed my eyes. When I opened them again she was just sittin' back down, with what looked like a cup in her hands. "Let me set this down and I'll see if I can prop up your head a little."

Two pillows later and I was better able to drink. Doralice held the cup to my lips and it wasn't bad; anything tasted better than laudanum. I got almost the full cup down before I ran out of steam. "That's good," she murmured, and put the cup down on the floor. "Better now?"

"Yeah," I told her, and then thought of somethin' else. "Bret?"

"He's still here, staying at the house, I mean. He's been a big help, lookin' after you. He rode out to the ranch today to see Beauregard and Ben, but he'll be back later."

"How long is he . . . ?"

"Gonna stay? As long as it takes, he says. Ginny's on a case in Kansas that could take a while, and Bret's not goin' anywhere."

"Sorry."

"Sorry? For what? There's nothin' for you to be sorry about."

"No wedding."

"We'll get there. When you got shot I thought I'd lost my groom. The wedding will wait."

"Love you."

She leaned over the bed and kissed my cheek. "I love you too. You close your eyes and get some more sleep. I'll be here when you wake up."

I was exhausted, and hadn't been awake and talking more than fifteen or twenty minutes. So I closed my eyes and waited for sleep to come. It didn't take long.

XXXXXXXX

Doralice lied to me; she wasn't at my bedside when I opened my eyes the next time. There was another face there, one I'd known a lot longer, if less intimately. Brother Bret. I'd recognize those dimples anywhere.

"I heard a rumor that you'd woken up. Welcome back, little brother."

"Hey."

"How's the pain?"

I wasn't about to drink any more of that foul-tasting stuff that Simon called medicine, so I lied. "Not bad."

"Really not bad, or the laudanum just tastes awful?"

I almost laughed, which would have hurt somethin' awful. My brother knew me too well. I made an ugly face, instead.

Bret did the laughing for me. "That's what I thought. Wish you'd take some, anyway. It'd help with the pain."

"Alright, but just a swallow." One swallow turned into two, then three, but that was all I could handle. "Water," I gasped, and Bret pulled a glass of water from nowhere. When I was done I had one more question. "Where's Doralice?"

"Went down to do somethin' for Maude. I expect her back anytime."

"You the substitute nurse?"

"One of 'em, anyway."

"Too much for just you two?'

"Sorta. Simon wanted somebody here with you all the time."

Simon. Bret had called Doctor Petry Simon. I wondered if that meant the old animosity was a thing of the past, where it belonged. "Simon? Not Doctor Petry?"

My brother looked sheepish and shook his head. "Nope. That was all over the night he took the bullet outta your lung. It's hard to stay at odds with somebody that saves your brother's life. Besides, Simon and Althea were a long time ago."

Bret was right about that. Years ago he'd been attracted to Althea Taylor and was flirting with the idea of marriage – until Althea and Simon fell in love with each other, right under Bret's nose. It was ages before he'd even refer to the two of them by name, but it sounded like he'd finally gotten past all that. Of course, the presence of Ginny Malone in his life had a lot to do with that, too. Speaking of which . . .

"You and Ginny?"

"We're fine, if that's what you're askin'. Ginny's in Wichita ridin' herd on some kinda bank robbery ring, and I had no desire to get involved, for once. Besides, I promised Pappy I'd come stay for a while. I didn't know my little brother was gonna try to get married."

"Try?" I guess I sounded a little offended, because Bret was quick to settle me down.

"Easy, Brother Bart. Nobody's sayin' you didn't want to. But Simon says it's gonna be a while before you're fit enough to reschedule the weddin'. That's all I meant."

I heard the front door open and brightened immediately. "Doralice?" My voice still wasn't much stronger than a raspy murmur, probably from breathing through my mouth because of the injured lung. But she must have heard me because she answered right away.

"I'm here, darlin'. I brought you a visitor. She wanted to see you awake for herself." The two best lookin' blondes in my life entered the room, one after the other, and I'm not sure whose smile was bigger, mother or daughter. Doralice hung back and let Maude come to my bedside first; even Bret backed off to that force of nature.

"Next time give 'em the money." Maude boomed that big laugh of hers and gave me a kiss before continuing. "You gave us all quite a scare, Mr. Maverick. And before we could even get you into the family. Hello, Bret," and she planted another kiss on my brother. No one could ever accuse Maude of being shy. Then she turned back to me and got inordinately quiet before taking hold of my right hand. "Thank you for savin' my baby girl. Again. I can't ever tell you how much that means to me." I saw a tear in Maude's eye that threatened to spill over.

"I love you, too, Maudie," I struggled to tell her. "Sorry to leave you short-handed."

"Don't you worry about that, honey. You just take your time and get well. My Doralice seems to think you'll make a decent husband." I got one more kiss and a quick hand squeeze, and she was gone.

"Didn't wanna wear you out," Doralice explained.

I know better than that. Maude didn't want that tear to be seen.


	2. Dandy James

Chapter 2 – Dandy James

The next week was a mixture of pain and pleasure. Pain as my body continued the healing process; pleasure at the number of people that stopped by to spend the endless days trying to keep me distracted and in good spirits. I felt terrible for Doralice, forced to play hostess to any number of people during the day and trying to watch out for my well-being at the same time. Three straight nights she fell asleep at my bedside, too tired to go any further that day. Finally I tried to put a stop to it, and begged her, "Please, no more. Nobody but family, and you get some rest."

She ignored me until I told Maude one afternoon, "Get her out of here. She's exhausted. Take her to your house and make her get some sleep."

Thank God Maude listened to me, and Bret, Pappy and Lily Mae played nursemaid for the next two days. When Doralice returned to our bedroom on the third day she actually looked relaxed and refreshed, and I elicited a promise that she would pamper me less and rest more.

Slowly, as I began to heal, I spent more and more time worrying about Maude and the saloon. She'd taken the whole burden of the saloon back on herself and was trying to run it with as much help as she could get from Bret, who was juggling his time between nursemaiding me and helpin' Doralice. My lung wasn't improving as fast as Simon had hoped, and he attributed a lot of that to my reluctance to stay still and continue with the laudanum. I tried, I really tried, but there was just so danged much to worry about, and the medicine tasted so bad. Finally he put his foot down and insisted I take the laudanum regularly, no matter how much I hated it, which meant we were back to needing a caretaker for me most of the day.

That's why I considered it a Godsend the day Dandy Jim Buckley showed up at our door. He was tired and ragged, at least by his standards, and Bret was gonna hate the fact that he was here, but I was drug-addled enough to be glad. Doralice had just taken a seat by my bedside when there was an insistent knocking on our door. "Now who in the world is that?" she asked, and I almost told her not to answer it. I would come to wish I had.

I didn't understand the words, but I could hear the accent. I would have yelled but I didn't have the lung power, so I had to wait until he appeared in the doorway to the bedroom. "Dandy!"

"Well, Bart old boy, looks like quite a mess you've gotten yourself into. And you with such a fine looking lady at your beck and call!"

Doralice blushed, something I wouldn't have expected, and I immediately replied, "Hands off, Dandy, the lady is spoken for."

"And this must be the future Mrs. Maverick," Buckley said with a sweep of his hat, as he took it off and bowed to her, then reached out and kissed her hand. And to my utter astonishment, Doralice blushed again.

"Mr. Buckley, I've heard so much about you! It's such a pleasure to meet you at last!"

Oh dear. Had I given Doralice the wrong impression? Did I make Buckley into something he wasn't? Let's see, over the years I'd told her he was a liar, a cheat, a conman, a cad, a swindler, a cardsharp, untrustworthy, and that he'd also saved my life. On more than one occasion. Nope, that was about the gist of it, and all of it true. And then I caught the look in her eyes, and they were full of mirth and laughter.

Dandy, however, ate it up and became more charming, if that was even possible. "I'm so sorry that we've not met before now. Bart, how long have you been keeping this beautiful creature a secret?"

"Not long enough, obviously." Before I could proceed any further, I started coughing, and my lung wouldn't let me continue. If Doralice was going to get introduced, she was gonna have to do it herself.

"I'm Doralice Donovan. Do you prefer to be called Jim or James?"

One more kiss on the back of the hand. This time Doralice didn't blush, and it made me wonder if she could do that at will. "Either is perfection when you say them, Miss Donovan. Or you can call me Dandy. May I call you Doralice?"

The manners were so thick I was about to choke. And then I took a good look at Jim. Like I said at first glance, he looked tired, but more than that, he looked . . . almost ordinary. His boots lacked their usual shine, and his coat and vest were, at best, average looking. Oh, I don't mean shabby or dirty, just . . . average. Clothes that lacked Jim's usual vibrant personality, and his flair for the . . . colorful. He was dressed all in beiges and browns, even down to his boots, which were normally a rich, glossy black. Something was decidedly wrong. Unless I missed my guess, Dandy was . . . broke.

Doralice, of course, had no idea that this wasn't the real Jim Buckley. He looked presentable, he just didn't look like Dandy. I wondered just what had happened to put him in this condition. But my questioning him was gonna have to wait. Right now my lungs were out of air.

"Yes, of course you may. And I shall call you . . . James." She smiled that dazzling smile and turned her attention to me. "I'll go get you some tea, Bart. Still want honey in it?"

I nodded, and she closed the door behind her as Dandy moved to sit down next to my bed. "Quite a woman you've got there, old boy."

"Just . . . remember who she's gonna . . . marry, old boy." There was nothin' wrong with my voice, I just couldn't get enough air in to finish a whole sentence.

"Worth losing a lung over?"

"I didn't . . . lose a lung. It's just . . . healin' slow."

"Uh-huh. So the wedding's off? For now, I mean?"

"For now."

Dandy grew quiet, and I wondered what he was thinking. He had no use for marriage; he'd made that well-known on more than one occasion. But I detected no attitude in his conversation with Doralice. Maybe Dandy had changed his opinion on the subject. And then he opened his mouth, and I knew I'd guessed wrong.

"Tell me, old boy . . . why do you want to get married? You already have the girl. Why tie yourself down, and in this . . . this little dirtwater town?" I'm sure the look on my face changed, because Dandy did some pretty fast backpedaling. "Oh, I forgot. This is the town you were born in, isn't it?"

Before I could try to give him an answer, Doralice was back with my tea. "I'm sorry, James, but you're gonna have to come back later. When Bart's lung gets like this he needs some time for it to recover. If you could come back around six this evening, you're welcome to join us for supper. Beef stew and fresh biscuits are on the menu."

Dandy looked grateful and gave Doralice the sweeping bow with his hat again. "I would be delighted to share a meal with you. That allows me a chance to obtain lodging and make myself presentable. I shall return promptly at six, beautiful lady. And perhaps our mutual friend will be able to carry on more of a conversation by then." He gave her a dazzling smile and took his leave.

"My oh my," Doralice laughingly remarked after we heard the front door close. "You didn't tell me that Mr. Buckley was quite so amusing."

"He's just . . . a barrel . . . of laughs."

"Alright, you need some rest. We'll talk later."

"About Buckley?" I asked skeptically.

"Among other things," my blue-eyed beauty replied.


	3. Room Six

Chapter 3 – Room Six

Dandy showed up promptly at six, with a different set of clothes on that were equally as average as what he'd worn earlier in the day. He brought with him a bottle of wine and presented it to Doralice with a flourish. "I thought perhaps you might be willing to share a glass or two this evening. I tried to find something appropriate for the repast you were preparing."

"Thank you, James," I heard Doralice answer. "That was awfully thoughtful of you."

I could hear some minor chatter from the two, but it was a few minutes before Dandy showed his face at my door. "How's the lung this evening?"

"Better," I answered. "Dandy . . . "

Doralice appeared at the door before I could get any further. "I hope you don't mind, James, but we eat meals rather unconventionally. The doctor hasn't given Bart the approval to move around too much yet, so we try not to disturb him any more than necessary. You sit there by Bart and I'll bring your supper in to you. I hope you don't mind."

"Not at all, beautiful lady. I would be happy to help you."

Doralice smiled. "Good. You can bring in the glasses and the wine."

It took a few minutes, but we were soon settled and eating supper, after a fashion. I was sure that Dandy wanted something from me; he was being way too helpful. Doralice was a good cook, as I've said before, but Jim ate as if his life depended on it. I'm not sure I've ever seen him consume that much food at a meal. My appetite, never the best in the world, was slowly beginning to come back, and Doralice seemed please. Jim again helped her return everything to the kitchen when we were finished, leaving me to ponder the question of the day – just what was Dandy after?

It didn't take me too long to find out, once it was just the two of us. "Say, Bart, old boy, I was given to understand that someone in the family owns a saloon. Is that correct?"

I nodded. "Doralice's mother. Why?"

"I, uh . . . well, I, uh . . . I . . . I need . . . "

"Dandy, spit it out."

"I need a job, old boy."

"You . . . what?" I wasn't trying to be difficult, I just wasn't sure I'd heard him right.

"Oh, for heaven's sake. Don't make me say it again."

"Really? Did you say you needed . . . a job?"

"Yes." Buckley stared at the wall, as if too embarrassed to look at me. "My humiliation is complete."

My first impulse was to burst out laughing, but that probably would have ended whatever friendship we actually had. And then a realization hit me – Jim must really be in dire straits if he was willing – no, practically begging, to work. "Are you broke?"

"Close enough."

"What happened?"

"I'm ashamed to tell you."

Now that was an answer I'd never heard from Jim before. "A scheme gone wrong?"

For the first time in all the years I'd known him, Jim actually looked . . . embarrassed. "I lost at poker."

I sort of chuckled. "That happens, Jim."

"I wasn't cheating. That's why I lost."

Now that was a revelation. Dandy was a fairly decent poker player, but he was much better . . . when he cheated at the game. I made it a point never to play poker with him, and that was the reason why. I wondered how he'd gotten himself into a situation where he didn't, or couldn't, cheat. "How did that happen?"

"It's a long, convoluted tale, my friend, and one I'd rather not have to explain. Suffice it to say, I left the bulk of my funds in a certain Jeremiah Turner's hands, with barely enough remaining to get here."

"To this little dirtwater town?"

"Sorry about that, old boy."

"What would you have done if I wasn't here?" I shudder to think of the havoc Dandy might have caused in Little Bend if I wasn't in town. Or worse yet, if Bret . . . oh, dear. For the first time I thought about my brother. To say that he and Dandy didn't get along was putting it mildly, and Bret was very much present in Little Bend. As a matter of fact, he was still staying with us on occasion. If he worked the floor for Maude a particular night, he probably came home to the spare bedroom here at the house. If he didn't, he was probably out at Uncle Ben's house. Tonight, thank God, he wasn't workin', so we hadn't seen him. Bret would have a fit when he ran into Buckley.

"To be perfectly frank with you, I don't know."

That got me to thinking. How did Buckley know I was here? And how did he know about the intended wedding, and the shooting, and everything else he seemed to know about? "Dandy . . . who told you I was gettin' married?"

"What? Oh, that. I ran into a fellow in Abilene, said he knew you. Ran a stage line. Joe something or other."

"Brady. Joe Brady." I'd lost big-time in a poker game to Brady a while back and took a temporary job with him as a shotgun rider. I wondered how Joe knew? That was a question that would have to wait for a later date to be answered.

"Bart . . . the job."

"Dandy, I can't give you a job. I don't own Maude's – only a very . . . small part of it."

I've never seen Dandy Jim Buckley deflate quite so fast. He looked like he'd just lost his last friend – and I guess, in a way, he thought he had. He sat very still and quiet for long minutes, especially for Jim Buckley, and then a thought seemed to occur to him, and he brightened. "Wait – weren't you working at the saloon?"

I nodded, not quite sure where he was going with this. "As the floor manager, yeah."

"And who's doing that job now that you've been shot?"

That was an excellent question. Sometimes it was being done by Bret, sometimes by nobody. And Maude really did need help. Full-time, every night help. "Ever worked as a floor manager in a saloon?"

"Once, down in New Orleans, for a short period of time."

"How short?"

"Three days."

Three days? Three days? And yet three days was three days more than Bret had worked as one before he took over trying to help Maude. Not that I was comparing my brother to Jim Buckley – God forbid. Dandy was everything Bret wasn't – shifty, crafty, sneaky, underhanded and dishonest. He'd be a natural at spotting anybody trying to put anything over on a dealer. Maybe . . . just maybe . . .

"What room are you in at the hotel?"

That look again. "I'm . . . I'm not at the hotel."

"McGinley's?" McGinley's was a run-down boarding house at the edge of town where those who were close to destitute stayed.

"Room Six."

I couldn't let him stay there. No matter what Dandy may or may not be, he didn't deserve to be in room six at McGinley's. "Go get your belongin's and check in at the hotel. Tell them I'll take care of the bill. And for God's sake, Dandy, get rid of those awful clothes."

"Bart . . . I . . . "

"I'll talk to Maude and see what we can work out. Come by tomorrow and let me know what room you're in. And Dandy . . . " I had to finish what I was gonna tell him in a hurry. My lung felt like it was on fire, and if I told Doralice I'd hear no end of it. "Don't tell Doralice anything about the hotel. This is strictly between you and me."

He nodded and grabbed my right hand. I was so startled by the gesture that I looked up into his face and for just a moment saw something I'd never seen before . . . humility and gratitude. I blinked and the look was gone, and all that remained was Dandy Jim Buckley. "Go. Now."

"I'll never forget this, Bart. I swear."

Neither would I.


	4. The New Manager

Chapter 4 – The New Manager

I knew I was gonna hafta tell Bret sooner or later that Dandy was in town, and it turned out to be sooner rather than later. Not long after breakfast he showed up to see how I was doing, and I asked Doralice to leave us alone for a while. He knew something was going on, and as soon as the bedroom door was closed he turned to me with that look in his eye.

"What're you into now, little brother?"

He looked tired, and I was hoping that my news would be a relief. "You know how everybody's been wearin' themselves out tryin' to cover everything with me gone? Doralice is tired, you're tired, poor Maude's exhausted. Well, I think I've found a solution to the problem."

"You've found somebody to fill in?" There was both hope and trepidation in his voice.

"I think so."

Bret gave me one of those 'what are you up to now' looks before he asked the next question. "Who?"

"Sit down, please," I asked him.

"Who, Bart?"

"No yellin' now, alright?"

"Bart?"

"Jim Buckley."

Bret had taken a seat before I answered him, and he looked across the bed at me now like I was a crazy man. But he didn't yell. "You . . . aren't . . . serious?"

I nodded carefully. "I am serious, and there's a very good reason why, if you'll let me explain it to you."

Bret took a deep breath and nodded slowly. "Alright, but it better be good."

"It is," and I launched into Dandy's tale of woe about Jeremiah Turner and the wages of playing cheat-free poker. I explained the clothing, the attitude, the embarrassment, the act of practically begging for a job, and finally his lodging at McGinley's. That seemed to seal the deal for Bret.

"Nobody should have to stay at McGinley's – not even Buckley. You send him to the hotel?"

"Yeah, I did, but I didn't tell Doralice. She was thoroughly amused by him, called him James and let him pretend to be the . . . proper English gentleman. I didn't want . . . her to think any less of him. Besides, I'll make him pay me back." I had to stop talking for a minute to try and get some more air into my lung.

"You heard from him this mornin'?"

I would have laughed if I'd had enough air. "Looked like he hadn't . . . slept in a . . . week. Or bathed. Gonna be . . . later before he shows up."

"Alright. I'd argue with you if I thought it'd do any good. But I'll make you a deal – if he promises to behave, I'll talk to Maude about him." That was saying a lot for Brother Bret, and I shook my head.

"Told him I would . . . " I started before I ran out of air.

"How about this . . . I'll sit in for Maude and she can come over here later. Then you can explain Buckley to her." My brother was actually grinning, probably because he knew what a task trying to explain Dandy Jim Buckley to anyone was gonna be.

"One other . . . thing. Clothes."

"What? Doesn't he have any clothes, either? Did he come here to see you buck naked?"

"No." I shook my head. "Just . . . not Dandy."

"Sold his clothes, did he? I'd have paid good money to see that." I glared at Bret and he looked kinda sheepish. I'm never gonna have that 'Beauregard Maverick' stare that Pappy and Bret have, but over the years I've gotten pretty good at withering looks. "We'll get him presentable. I ain't gonna promise anything beyond that. And if he gives me one bit of grief . . . "

"He won't." I hoped.

XXXXXXXX

Close to noon Maude showed up at the house, and Doralice went to get supplies, which were running low. "How you doing?" Maude asked, before sitting down at my bedside.

"Gettin' better," I told her. "I ain't ready to walk the floor at the saloon yet, but I'm improving."

"Speaking of the saloon – Bret told me you've got a potential solution for the floor manager problem."

"I do. His name is Jim Buckley, and he's a friend of mine."

"And Bret's?"

"Well . . . not so much. Bret and Jim sorta rub each other wrong. But you'll love Buckley. He's debonair, charming, a sharp dresser, and has a real English accent."

"And what qualifies him to work as a floor manager?"

That was easy. "Two reasons. First, he needs a job. And second, he's one of the finest cardsharps you'll ever meet. Which means he can spot somebody tryin' to cheat a mile away."

"Is he reliable?"

I swallowed hard and crossed my fingers. "Yes."

She thought about it for a minute or two. "Has Doralice met him?"

I nodded on that one. "He was here for supper last night. She thought he was . . . amusing, to quote her."

"Alright, Bart. We can pay him fifty percent of your salary to start, and he can play as much poker as he can handle, as long as he covers the floor while he's doin' it. And plays honestly." That was the sticking point, and I needed to make sure Dandy understood. "Maude's has a reputation to maintain. We don't try to cheat the customers, and they know it."

"And that's the way it'll stay," I agreed.

"Then have Bret bring him by later today, and we'll get him started. You have no idea what a relief it'll be to have some help." She patted my hand. "But only until you're well. You know I've always wanted you to be part of Maude's, from the first moment you agreed to rescue my girl. But I never thought I'd be lucky enough to have you as part of the family."

"You mean be stuck with the Maverick clan, don't you?"

Maude laughed that delicious laugh that she'd passed on to her equally beautiful daughter. "Gladly, honey, gladly."


	5. The Snake

Chapter 5 – The Snake

I was dozing about an hour later when I heard Doralice answer the door. It quickly became apparent that it was Dandy, and that notion was confirmed as he stood in the bedroom doorway. "Just gettin' outta bed, Dandy?"

"Yes, well, I apologize for appearing so late. There was the matter of personal hygiene, you see, and I wasn't able to resolve that until this morning." He moved from the doorway to the chair by the bed. Unfortunately, he still needed to resolve the matter of his clothes. "Do you have any news for me?"

"I do. Maude is willin' to put you in the floor manager position – temporarily. Bret will be by this afternoon to take you to the saloon, so Maude can get you set-up and started. And I expect you and Bret to play nice with each other. He's willin' to give you a chance, Jim, but you have to be on your best behavior. He's doing you a favor, and I'd appreciate it if you'd remember that."

Jim's head was nodding slightly, but whether he was agreeing with what I was telling him or merely paying me lip-service, I have no idea. At the moment, he looked like he was listening to me. "One more thing," I added.

"And that would be, old boy?"

"We have to do somethin' about your clothes.

Buckley looked at me in dismay. "But I . . . this is all I have."

My beautiful woman was standing in the doorway, which prevented me from havin' to call for her. I'd noticed that today Jim's boots were black, although desperately in need of a shine. "Can you find the coat and vest I've got in the other room? And that shirt with the ruffles like Bret wears? And bring them in here, please?"

"Of course."

This time the look from Dandy was closer to . . . horror. "Bart, really. You expect me to wear your clothes? I couldn't . . . "

I cut him off. "These should fit, Jim, and they'll look a damn sight better than what you have on."

When Doralice returned his eyes got even bigger than before. "Black? Black? I'll look like . . . "

"An undertaker? Yes, I know. I've heard that before." He had on a pair of gray pin-striped pants, and those would go nicely with the coat and vest. But damn, the last thing I wanted was to give him my good black hat. And those dull, dusty boots. Doralice saved the day.

"Why don't you give me your boots and I'll put a nice shine on them for you, James?" she asked sweetly. I have no idea how I'd ever lived as long as I did without this angel in my life, but I was real glad I didn't have to do so any longer.

I knew Dandy wanted to grumble, but he wasn't about to do it with Doralice within earshot, so he obediently removed his boots and handed them over. Doralice smiled at me and closed the bedroom door behind her. "Now – change clothes," I told the erstwhile Englishman, and he reluctantly obeyed, muttering something so quietly that I couldn't hear exactly what he was saying.

I'd guessed correctly. The coat and vest were from a time a while back and fit Jim almost perfectly, although I was just a bit taller than he was. The shirt, too, and it looked a lot more appropriate on Dandy than it did on me. He was busy tying his tie when Doralice knocked on the door with the now highly-polished black boots. "Here you are, James. They look much better now."

Buckley bowed and took them from Doralice with a flourish. "They are quite elegant, beautiful lady. You have my never-ending gratitude." With that, he sat down and began to pull them on. I heard a knock on the door and Doralice went to answer it. I cringed inwardly – it had to be Bret.

In a few seconds my second assumption of the day proved correct. "Buckley." Bret nodded curtly.

"Maverick." Jim's reply was only slightly more cordial.

"You dressed for a funeral?" my brother asked next.

Jim responded in kind. "Don't lay the blame on me, it was Bart's idea."

"I thought I recognized that coat."

I cleared my throat. "Are the two of you finished?"

They looked at me like I was the referee in a title fight. I almost said, "Go to your corners" but I thought better of it. "You got a black hat, Dandy?" I queried.

I was happy to hear his answer. "Yes, at the hotel."

"What room are you in?"

"Two-sixteen."

"Bret?"

My brother heaved a big sigh. "We'll stop on the way to Maude's."

"Try not to do too much damage to each other, please? Bret, you're gonna hafta take Jim to Sam Humphries Tailor Shop tomorrow, to see about him gettin' some new clothes." Bret gave me that _'oh_ _no, not in this life'_ look. I turned to Dandy; it appeared he was about to protest, too. "Can you give us a minute, Jim?"

Once the door was closed I made my displeasure known to my brother. "You agreed to do this, Bret. It's the best thing for everybody, and you know it. And Dandy can't keep wearin' my clothes, so you're gonna hafta help. He can't wear what he's got, he looks like a dormouse."

Bret was silent for a minute, before he raised the unspoken issue. "Who's gonna pay for the clothes?"

"Why? You keepin' score?"

"What if I am?" I could tell from the expression on my brother's face that he regretted the question. Or at least the way he sounded when he asked it. His voice was considerably less hard-edged when he started again. "Look, Bart, I know Buckley's your friend, and you're tryin' to help him. And if he does the job the way he's capable of, everybody'll be better off. But this is Dandy Jim Buckley we're talkin' about. And you know that when the chips are down, Dandy only does what's best for Dandy. So I understand you wantin' to give him the benefit of the doubt. But I don't trust him. A snake can shed its skin, but it's still a snake. And Buckley's always gonna be Buckley. I just hope you're not the one that gets bit."

Bret was calm and rational, and entirely correct. That's what scared me the most. But I'd given my word to Dandy, and I was gonna see this thru. "I know you're just tryin' to look out for my best interest. And you may be right. But I gotta do this, Bret. I gotta try to help him. He begged me for help. I can't turn my back on him now."

Bret hesitated, then nodded. "I don't agree with what you're doin', but I understand it. Sort of. And I know you're gonna do it, whether I like it or not. So I'll try to make the best of it. Buckley may be nothing to me, but you're my brother, and if you wanna throw your money away on that no account snake, I guess I just hafta let you."

When Bret finished, he wore a sly grin. And I knew that if this didn't go the way it was supposed to, all I was gonna hear was _'I told you so.'_


	6. Inching Forward, Slowly

Chapter 6 – Inching Forward, Slowly

I was hoping Maude would come by later that evening for a while to give us her impressions of Buckley, but it was actually a little after breakfast the next day when I heard the door open and her voice call out, "Y'all decent?"

We'd been in the bedroom discussing a new date for the wedding, and Doralice answered back, "In the bedroom, Maude, come on in."

She did just that, kissing Doralice hello and then doing the same to me. "You look good this mornin', Bart. How you feeling today?"

I actually did feel better and told her so. I think part of it was no longer worrying about her not having any help with the saloon. Somehow worrying about Buckley came more naturally, and that's what I was doing now. "Better, Maude. Sit down and join us for a while. We were talking about rescheduling the wedding."

"Do you want some coffee, Mama?" Doralice asked. "There's a fresh pot on the stove."

"I'd love a cup, darling."

"Bart?"

As usual, my cup was empty. "Of course, blue eyes."

"Got a date in mind?" Maude asked as Doralice went to retrieve the coffee pot.

"Three or four weeks from now," I told her, and she broke into a big smile.

"Good. That means you really are feelin' better, and not just tellin' me what I want to hear."

I waited a minute before I asked her, "How'd Jim do last night?"

Doralice had returned with the coffee pot and a cup and poured some for all three of us. "He did fine, actually better than I expected for the first night. He caught Johnny Blackstone trying to double deal, again. We've gotta make sure that Johnny's only allowed to play poker if he plays with a dealer. Otherwise he's not welcome anymore, whether he's playing cards or not."

"So, Jim was good? I was hopin' he could solve some problems."

Maude nodded. "Bret stayed with him for the first hour or so, but he was on his own after that. He's a real interesting man."

"Was he tellin' you yarns last night?" God only knows what kind of tales Buckley was liable to weave for Maude's benefit.

"Yeah, stories about the two of you, mostly. Did you really almost get hung in a mining camp?"

Oh, Lord. Not one of my better memories. "Yeah, I had too many encounters with the rope when I was younger. Buckley saved my hide on that one, though. If he hadn't sprung me from the minin' camp jail and helped me find the real killer . . . let's just say I wouldn't be sittin' here tellin' you about it."

"He seems so . . . cultured and charming."

"Oh, he is," I said between laughs. "And he's a lot tougher than he looks."

"Bret's not real fond of him." Maude had already picked up on that, which meant there was probably the usual amount of animosity between the two of them.

I shook my head. "They've had a few . . . unfortunate situations to deal with. They always have rubbed each other the wrong way, and there's been some bad blood on both sides. But Dandy's a better man than Bret gives him credit for bein'. At least, he has the potential to be."

"And why's he called Dandy?" Both mother and daughter had given me their full attention.

I wanted to laugh so bad that I finally couldn't hold it in anymore, and when I let it go I laughed until I couldn't breathe. Doralice seemed genuinely concerned for my health until I waved her away. When I'd finally settled down, I gave them my best answer. "Neither one of you has seen the real Dandy. Wait until he gets some clothes more to his liking."

"Those were Bart's clothes he had on yesterday, mother," Doralice added.

"He looked pretty sharp in them."

"Yes," I responded, "but he didn't look like Dandy. He tends to like bright colors. Bright, bright, colors. Even that's putting it mildly. He's addicted to peacock blue and purple. With nary a mark on his boots or a hair out of place."

"That will be quite a sight, I should think. A feast for the eyes."

"He'll be a big help to both mother and Bret," Doralice stressed the most important part.

"Let's hope," I murmured.

XXXXXXXX

Dandy himself came by after his visit to Sam's store. He'd managed to pick out two coats, and Sam had a third one arriving in the next two or three days that he thought would fit Jim perfectly. Buckley seemed quite pleased with his selections, so I asked him about colors, just to see what he'd found. I'd imagined that Sam's choices might be quite limited in comparison to what Jim usually bought.

"Well, this certainly isn't San Antonio or even Houston, but all in all I'm pleased." He paused for just a moment. "These will certainly keep me from looking like an . . . "

"Undertaker?" I finished

"Precisely, old boy." Of course at that exact moment Dandy still wore the black coat and waistcoat I'd given him yesterday, with tan pants and a different shirt, and looked nothing like an undertaker. He did appear a whole lot happier, however, and for that I was grateful. If Dandy was happy, or at least pleased with the way things were going, he was a lot less likely to cause any kind of disagreement – with Bret or anyone else. He insisted on showing me what he'd gotten rather than just describing it, and the coats would be ready for him tomorrow. I agreed to wait.

He went off to catch some sleep before going to the saloon. I don't know what he said to Doralice before he left, but she was giggling when she came in to see me. "He is a funny, funny, man," she said, shaking her head. "How long have you known him?"

"Too long," I replied. Then I changed the subject. "Heard anything from Bret today?"

XXXXXXXX

It was late afternoon before we saw Bret. Considering he'd had to spend the morning riding herd on Buckley, he seemed to be in a good mood. "You look like you're just about to get outta that bed," he told me, once he had a fresh cup of coffee in his hands.

"I wish. At least I can talk and breathe at the same time."

"How's the pain?"

That was easy to answer. "A lot better. No more laudanum, at least. Buckley came by earlier. I see you let him live."

Bret sighed. "Can we talk about something besides Buckley?"

"Sure." I thought for a moment, and then told him, "Doralice and me were talkin' about reschedulin' the weddin.' You gonna be able to stay for that?"

The grin, dimples and all, was back. "Of course. When are you thinkin' about?"

"Three or four weeks."

"You be up for it that fast?"

I nodded. "I think so. Can you keep from runnin' Jim out of town that long?"

My brother grinned again. "I think so."

"You goin' to the saloon tonight?" That was probably the test as to how well Jim had done last night.

"Just for a bit, to help Maude with a special project. Somethin' she's been wantin' to get done for a while."

I was curious, but Bret had that ' _don't ask me what I'm doin'_ look on his face. "Any word on when Pappy's comin' into town next?" I hadn't seen him or Ben in almost two weeks.

"Should be in on Friday, told me to tell you they'd be by. They don't know about Buckley yet, so be prepared."

Of course they didn't. Bret was going to leave that delightful job to me. Not that it should be difficult – neither of them had ever met Dandy. But I was sure they'd heard plenty about him from Bret – and none of it good.

"Thanks, big brother. I'm sure everything will be fine."

"Before I go – I ran into Simon this mornin'. He'll be by tomorrow to see how you're doin'." At least that was good news. Maybe I could actually convince Simon it was time for me to get back to living outside of this bedroom. "And quit grinnin' like an idiot. He didn't make no predictions about lettin' you out into the world yet."

Nonetheless, I was elated. Things were beginning to look up.


	7. The Emperor's New Clothes

Chapter 7 – The Emperor's New Clothes

I was on pins and needles the next day, waiting for Doctor Simon Petry to appear, but it was almost evening before there was finally a knock on our front door. He wasted no time getting in to see me, and I'm sure he could tell how anxious I was.

Simon did as full an exam as he could; poking, prodding, and asking questions, some of which I couldn't answer. Then he seemed to start all over again. I'm not the most patient man in the world, and I was just about at the end of my rope when he finally quit all his machinations and set down next to my bed. "So how are you feeling, Bart? Really, I mean. Don't tell me what you think I want to hear, because I'm going to know if you're not being honest."

"I can talk without gasping for breath, or runnin' out of air after a few minutes. I don't need the laudanum at all anymore, and there's very little pain unless I twist the wrong way. I feel like . . . like I'm makin' progress."

"Good. That was a truthful answer, according to everything I've seen. I think we can try to get you up and walking, at least so you can be moved out to the settee. How do you feel about that?"

"Can we try it now?" I asked hopefully.

"I think we should wait until tomorrow morning," was Simon's response. "That way you can sleep in the bed tonight but have a full day out of it tomorrow. Can you handle that? I can come by around nine and help Doralice move you."

I was disappointed, but I understood. "Sure, I can wait until tomorrow."

"Alright, then I'll see you in the morning. Hang in there, Bart. You are improving."

Sleep in the bed tonight? Did Simon actually say that? There was no sleep for me; I couldn't wait to get out of the room that had been my entire world for weeks. We had breakfast the next morning, then Doralice made a bed on the settee, complete with sheets, blankets, and pillows, and we waited. And waited. And waited.

It was closer to ten o'clock than nine when Simon finally got there. "Sorry I'm late. Mrs. Milburn decided it was time to have her baby."

"Everything turn out alright?" I asked. Molly Milburn was in school with me, although several years younger than I was. Also, she was Molly Tate at the time.

"No problems. She now has a beautiful baby girl." Simon got up and went to the bedroom door. "Doralice, can you come in here a minute, please?" When she got to the doorway Simon asked her, "Think you can help me get him to the settee?"

She nodded her head vigorously and came straight over to my side. I pulled the blankets back, and blue eyes helped me swing my legs out of bed; I felt my feet touch the floor and almost cried. I had begun to think I'd never get out of this room. With Doralice on one side of me and Simon on the other, I draped my arms over their shoulders, and they slowly helped me into a standing position. My legs were weak and wobbly due to my extended stay in bed, and I was breathing heavier than I expected to be, but I was on my feet.

Slowly we made our way into the big main room, and I shuffled my feet in an attempt to help as much as possible. It was almost like learning to walk all over again. They lowered me gently onto the settee and my lady went into mother hen mode, arranging my blankets, fluffing my pillow, doing everything she could to make me comfortable. When she finally stopped, she looked down at me and smiled, pleased with the results. "That's much better," she said. "Now I won't be so alone all the time. And you get a change of scenery."

"What do you think, Doc? How long before I can start movin' around?"

"Let's try walking you back and forth for two or three days before we go any further. We'll see how you are on Monday."

Monday. That was three full days away. I didn't wanna wait that long, but Simon was the doctor and I knew better than to argue with him.

"Alright. I'll be ready by then." At least I hoped I would.

XXXXXXXX

Dandy showed up at our door around noon and seemed startled that I had been moved to the front room. "I didn't think you were going to progress quite so fast," he told me, sounding somewhat disappointed.

"Fast? That's all relative, Jim. Seems like I've been in that bedroom forever." It finally dawned on me that he had his new coats with him. As a matter of fact, he had one on. It was a bright rust color, and almost looked like velvet. He wore it with a gold and rust vest and gold pants, including the usual highly polished knee-high boots. Doralice seemed enthralled.

"Very nice, James. What else did you get?"

Buckley seemed quite eager and willing to put on a fashion show for my bride-to-be. After all, it was a beautiful woman making the request – and this was Dandy Jim Buckley. He was being given carte blanche to preen. "May I borrow the bedroom?"

"Of course," I answered. This should be good. It took him quite a few minutes, but when Jim emerged he finally looked like himself. The coat was a long frock coat in a dark burgundy color, with pants a lighter shade of the same, and a waistcoat the color of the jacket, with silver and gold threads woven through it.

"Oh, my," Doralice breathed in, and I do have to admit that the clothes were quite spectacular – for Dandy, that is. Certainly not for me. "Bart, you . . . " she started, and I immediately replied emphatically.

"NO. Not in this or any other lifetime."

"But they're so beautiful!"

"And not for me."

"Undertaker," Jim stated.

"That's me. I'm perfectly happy lookin' like an undertaker."

Jim disappeared into the bedroom one more time, and when we saw him next, even I had to admit that he looked good. The frock coat was dark green, the pants a lighter green and the waistcoat lighter still. His cravat was a rich, silky looking purple. Doralice whistled. Dandy replied with a sweeping bow just as someone knocked on the door.

"You did right well, Jim. I must say, I'm impressed with what Sam was able to put together for you."

It was Friday, and I'd forgotten all about Pappy and Uncle Ben coming to visit. Pappy got about three feet inside the door and was kissing his future daughter-in-law's cheek when he caught sight of Dandy, and it stopped him dead in his tracks. He looked just a bit confused until Dandy spoke and left no doubt who he was.

"Mr. Maverick and Mr. Maverick, I presume. How plesant to meet both of you at last. I am . . . "

"Buckley," Pappy said the name as if it was a dirty word. "I recognize the accent."

Dandy cleared his throat. "Yes, well, I see that you've been listening to your oldest son. I hope you won't accept everything he told you at face value. There's always a second side to every story."

Ben followed Pappy in the door but said nothing. This was one battle he fully intended to let Pappy fight by himself.

It was time I said something. "Jim, I think you did real good with the clothes, considering where we are. But I think it best if you came back tomorrow when the house isn't so . . . crowded."

Dandy's expression never changed. He kept a smile plastered on as if it was the most natural thing in the world and turned to Doralice, kissing the back of her hand. "Miss Doralice, thank you for your hospitality and flattering remarks. Take good care of your patient. I shall see you both tomorrow." He disappeared into the bedroom and emerged moments later with his purchases, tipped his hat to Doralice, then to Pappy and Ben, and brushed past both of them.

"Hmpf." Pappy voiced his opinion. "Good riddance." It took him a minute to realize that I was on the settee and not in the bedroom. "Bartley! Simon let you move! I'm glad to see some progress."

"Hello, Bart. You're lookin' better." Uncle Ben finally spoke.

I cleared my throat. "Pappy. Ben. Have a seat."

"Oh, oh, Ben, I think we're in trouble." Pappy looked defiant, Ben looked unhappy. I just felt forlorn.

"Jim's right, you know. There are two sides to everything. And you've only been listenin' to one. It's time you heard from me about Dandy Jim Buckley."


	8. A Very Important Date

Chapter 8 – A Very Important Date

Doralice went to put a pot of coffee on the stove. I couldn't blame her – if I could have gone somewhere, I would have, too. "Sit down, please, both of you," I repeated.

Pappy and Ben sat down. Pappy still looked like he'd swallowed something that tasted bad, and I wondered just what Bret had told him. All I could do was give him a different perspective. "I know you've heard a lot from Bret about Jim Buckley. And Bret is entitled to his opinion, but it's only an opinion." I shifted uncomfortably. "Jim and my brother have never gotten along, and there's responsibility on both sides. They go out of their way to aggravate each other. That doesn't make Jim a bad person, any more than it makes Bret a bad person. Dandy's got some good qualities that Bret ignores. And he's helped me out of more than one tight spot."

Pappy's expression had softened, and he almost looked like he was paying attention. Of course, the fact that Doralice had brought cups and coffee to both of the men helped. A lot. Ben was listening but not commenting. I had no idea what he knew or didn't know about Buckley.

I stopped talking and took a sip of coffee. Doralice came over and sat down by my side. She looked at me and asked quietly, "Do you think this is gonna do any good?"

I have to admit, I didn't. Pappy had been subject to Bret's opinions for so long, and taken every word he said as gospel, and I didn't think anything I said was gonna change that. But I was gonna try one more thing. "I expect you to at least be civil. Jim's doing me a favor, and he's helpin' Bret and Maude at the same time. So behave."

When the silence was finally broken, it was Uncle Ben who spoke. "That's a reasonable request, Bart, and we'll do our very best to honor it. Won't we, Beauregard?"

I was surprised by the tone of Ben's voice. Very rarely had I heard him say anything that sounded like a demand, but that's exactly what this was. And Pappy appeared to acquiesce to his brother.

"Yes, Ben, we will. Wouldn't want to say or do anything that might hurt Maudie." I'd always suspected that Pappy had a bit of a 'crush' on Maude, and the resignation in his voice seemed to confirm that.

"Thank you. I appreciate that."

Doralice brought the coffee pot around again and then sat back down with me. "Beauregard, we've rescheduled the wedding."

"When?"

"Four weeks from tomorrow," my fiancé answered.

Pappy smiled for the first time. "Good. That means Bart's gettin' better." Pause. "Are you walkin' yet?"

I shook my head. "Nope. Needed Simon and Doralice to get out here, but Doc says we'll try Monday."

"Still holdin' it on the hill?" Ben asked.

"If we can. One way or the other, we're gettin' married in four weeks. I don't care if it's right here in this room, it's happenin' on June twenty-ninth."

Pappy's eyes got big as he realized what I'd just said. "The . . . the twenty-ninth . . . "

"Of June," I finished. "Yes, Pappy. The twenty-ninth."

"You realize . . . " he left the thought unfinished.

"I do." Ben looked bewildered, but Pappy could explain it to him later.

My father cleared his throat and said nothing for a moment. Then he blurted out, "Long as you don't go steppin' in front of no more bullets."

XXXXXXXX

Three days passed slowly, with Doralice and somebody helping walk me back and forth from the settee to the bed and back again. There was a small amount of improvement - nothing major, as I wasn't doin' anything to encourage improvement.

When Simon arrived late on Monday morning, he brought Bret with him. That was unexpected, but it did my heart good to see those two actin' almost normal around each other. "I brought some help with me today. If you're going to do any walking, I want somebody here besides poor Doralice."

"I appreciate the thought, Simon, but I could have handled it."

Simon nodded, agreeing with her. "I know you could have, Doralice, but the point is you don't need to."

Bret seconded the statement. "Ain't no different than normal, girl. I been carryin' him my whole life." Everybody but me laughed at the remark.

Simon had brought a cane with him. I hadn't seen one of those in a long time, but I reached for it out of habit. "That's good, Bart. Let's see if you can get yourself out of bed."

It was a struggle at first, but I finally got to my feet. Standing there swaying back and forth, I was glad the cane was around to lean on. Simon's next instruction was, "Take a step forward." That was harder. I willed my feet to move . . . and finally, they did. I took a wobbly step. "Keep going until you can't anymore." I inched my way across the bedroom and had almost reached the doorway when my legs declared they were going no further. I swayed left, then lurched right, but before I could lose my balance and fall, Bret was on one side of me and Simon on the other. The two of them supported the bulk of my weight and allowed me to reach the settee unscathed. I sat down heavily.

Doralice had watched the whole thing – at least from the bedroom door to the settee, and she seemed almost as pleased as Simon, who took a seat facing Bret. "Stubborn cuss, isn't he?" the doctor asked my brother.

"Always has been," was Bret's reply.

"Served him well today, didn't it?"

"Hello, you two . . . I'm right here. Can you please stop talking as if I'm in the other room?"

"I think you made an excellent first showing, Bart. I'll come by this evening and we'll walk you back to bed. And tomorrow we'll go further. You're making significant progress for having been flat on your back for so long."

"We've only got until June twenty-ninth, Simon, so we better hurry this along," I instructed.

"What's the twenty-ninth?" Simon inquired.

I looked at Doralice and smiled. "Our rescheduled wedding."

Bret looked surprised. "You set a firm date?"

"We did," I answered. "Come hell or high water, even if it's done right in this room."

"Congratulations Bart, Doralice. I'm sure you'll be able to hold the ceremony wherever you want it," Simon smiled at the two of us. Bret just grinned like an idiot, and kept grinnin' long after Simon was gone.

"Wipe that smile off your face, would you?" I finally had to ask.

"Nope. I am genuinely thrilled to hear a real date."

"You know that date." Bret looked confused at first, then it slowly dawned on him.

"Momma's birthday."

"Yep."

"Does Doralice – "

"She does. I checked first." I'd asked her two or three times, as a matter of fact. I wanted to make sure that my bride-to-be had no objections to our wedding falling on my mother's birthday. She thought it was sweet.

"Besides, that way you'll have no excuse for ever forgetting our anniversary," she stated matter-of-factly.

"That's the gospel, blue eyes," I replied, and it was settled.

"Are you . . . I mean, have you . . . I guess what I really mean is, is Buckley invited to the weddin'?"

I shook my head. "No. You, Pappy, Ben, Lily Mae, Maude and Cristian. And the preacher. That's all at the weddin'. Whole town's invited to the reception at Maude's."

"Even Buckley?" Bret asked. I was surprised he had to ask.

"He's welcome, assuming he's still in town."

"Do you think he will be?"

"I honestly don't know. If I've gone back to the saloon, there's no reason for him to stay here. But if I haven't . . . "

The next thing out of my brother's mouth was something I never thought I'd hear. "I hope he sticks around. I'd like to see you get all the rest you can before you go back to the saloon – after the weddin', not before."

"Does that mean . . . "

"That he seems to be doin' alright? So far, at least. And he's stayin' away from me and ain't givin' Maude any trouble. It's unnerving, to be honest. Let's just hope . . . let's just hope."


	9. Days in Mexico

Chapter 9 – Days in Mexico

I hadn't seen Dandy in a few days and sent word to the head bartender at Maude's, Randy Whitten, to tell Jim to get his butt over to see me. I was surprised when Randy came by instead. We made small talk for a few minutes and then he told me very quietly, "I've heard somethin' from two or three of the regulars, Bart, and I thought you oughta know about it."

"What's goin' on, Randy?" I was curious, to say the least.

"There's been some rumors . . . couple of the boys claim that the new fella's been cheatin' when he plays poker for himself." I must have looked skeptical, because Randy hurried on, "Not when he's dealin' for the house, mind you, just when he's playin' on his own."

"Are the rumors reliable, Randy? Who are they comin' from?"

"Not anybody whose word I'd take as gospel, Bart. I just thought maybe you should hear about 'em. Just in case . . . I'll keep my ears open, and if I hear anything else, I'll let you know. Meantime, Mr. Buckley says he'll be over tomorrow mornin', and he hopes that's alright by you."

"Sure," I told him. We talked for a few more minutes and Randy left for the saloon. I wondered . . . had Jim ignored everything I told him about playin' honestly when he was at Maude's? Did he think that if he cheated when he was playin' for himself it didn't make no difference? Or were the rumors just that, rumors, with no truth to them? I was so deep in thought that I didn't hear Doralice when she called me.

"Honey, are you there? Do you want some lunch?"

"Huh? Oh, sure," I replied, and lost my train of thought. Matter of fact, it never crossed my mind again until I saw Jim the next mornin'.

"How's it goin' over at Maude's?" I asked. Jim was smiling and seemed in a good frame of mind.

"Couldn't be better, old boy. How are things going over here?"

"I'd say they're improvin'. We've set a date . . . June twenty-ninth. For the weddin', of course." There was no negative reaction from Jim . . . as a matter of fact, there was no reaction at all. At the moment he seemed thoroughly and completely fascinated by Doralice.

"She is a creature of extraordinary beauty. And you found her here, right under your nose, so to speak."

I shook my head. "No, Buckley, I found her in Mexico." My beautiful, blue-eyed girl had joined us in the front room.

"Really, James, didn't Bart ever tell you the story? I was quite a mess at the time, too." Thinking back, it was hard to remember just how bad she'd looked when I found her, being taken to Monterrey to be hanged for a murder that wasn't a murder at all.

"No, he never shared that story with me, I'm afraid. Would you?"

So for the next hour or so I listened as the soon-to-be Mrs. Maverick spun the tale of masquerade, deceit, and fleeing for our lives from the Federales. She told Buckley details I'd long since forgotten, and facts I was never aware of, having spent the better part of a week with a raging fever that kept me in and out of consciousness. It sounded more dramatic than I remembered it, but maybe that was just the way Doralice told the story. Dandy sat in rapt attention, and I had no idea he could remain motionless and silent for such an extended period of time. When she finished, my old friend looked at me with admiration and, for just a moment, a tinge of regret. I wondered what had triggered the regret; it would be weeks before I found out.

"I didn't know you were such a hero, Bart," Dandy finally said, without a trace of irony or sarcasm.

"I wasn't," was my quick reply. "Doralice was the hero. She's the one that kept me alive."

All this reminiscing had once again made me forget the conversation I'd had with Randy just the day before. When it finally surfaced, I sat and watched Jim and Doralice talk, slowly convincing myself that the information Randy had given me was rumor at best, and not to be believed without more substantial evidence. Not bringing it up was a mistake, but a mistake I was willing to make, at least for the moment.

"Bart. Bart. Are you with us?"

I'd been thinking and not listening, and covered by admitting, "Sorry, my mind was on the weddin'."

Doralice smiled, and they talked for a few more minutes, mostly about the saloon. When it appeared I had nothing further to say, Jim got up to leave and Doralice walked him to the door. "Take care of this lady, old boy. She's something special."

"That I already know, Jim. Don't wait so long to come by the next time."

I'm sure nobody was expecting Bret to be standing outside the door, gettin' ready to knock, but there he was when the door swung open. He began to smile, then caught sight of Jim standing behind Doralice, and the smile quickly disappeared. "You leavin'?" he asked Buckley.

"No hello, Maverick? How do you suppose it happened that one brother was raised with manners and the other without? To answer your question, yes, I'm leaving." He gave Doralice a quick kiss on the cheek as he told her, "It was a pleasure to see you, Miss Doralice. Make sure that rascal behaves himself." He brushed past Bret without another word. Doralice blushed.

Never one to mince words, she wasn't particularly pleased with her future brother-in-law. "Really, Bret, James did nothing to you to deserve such rudeness." Rather than the usual kiss in greeting, she merely moved aside and held the door open wider.

Bret looked slightly chastised. "I'm sorry to have acted that way in front of you. But I'm not sorry he's gone."

My brother hurriedly took a seat across from me. "Everything alright?" I asked.

"It is. Maude's got somethin' for you at the saloon when you're well enough to get there. How's the walking goin'?"

"Not bad," was my reply. "How about you follow me into the kitchen and we have some coffee?"

Doralice hurried over to my side as I started to get up. "I'm going to the saloon to see my mother. I'll be back in about an hour. You need anything?"

"Nope. Just stay safe. Oh, and I love you."

She bent down and we kissed. "I will. I love you too." She straightened up and smiled, indicating that she wasn't still upset with Bret. "See you later, Bret."

He nodded and tipped his hat. I used the cane and got to my feet, then slowly shuffled into the kitchen, without any help. "You're gettin' good at that," my brother remarked, and it brought a smile from me.

"Got to. Ain't nobody gonna carry me up to that hilltop the day I marry that girl."

"Amen," I heard Bret murmur, and I echoed the sentiment.

"Amen."


	10. The Awful Truth

Chapter 10 – The Awful Truth

The days went by, slowly at first as I almost had to learn how to walk all over again. I no longer needed help gettin' back and forth from the bed to the settee, and spent more and more time walkin' around town with one or more family members as chaperone. The day a couple weeks later when Cristian came for the afternoon stroll, I had decided I wanted to go to the saloon. The man that was going to be my 'father-in-law' was only too happy to take me there.

I got an enthusiastic welcome from Randy, who brought coffee to us at the table I'd had to sit down at. It felt good to stretch my legs, but at the same time walking this far was tiring. I hadn't been inside Maude's since the night I was shot, and sitting here now it seemed like just yesterday. Cristian excused himself and went to tell Maude that I was here. It only took a couple minutes for her to come practically running out of her office, her husband trailing behind her.

She bent over to give me a kiss on the cheek and then burst into laughter. How I'd missed that sound! "It's so good to see you up and about. How's it feel after that long walk?"

"Like I'm an old man of ninety," I told her, and laughed right along with her.

"You got any energy left? There's somethin' I need to show ya." Maude had a twinkle in her eye, which was damn hard to resist.

"I think so." I got up and she led the way back towards her office, slowly. Only when she got there she made a left turn, down past Doralice's office, to what had formerly been a storage room. She pulled out her keys and unlocked the door, opening it wide. I couldn't believe my eyes. A beautiful mahogany desk facing two overstuffed chairs covered in rich, dark blue fabric, with a bookcase on the side wall and a small table next to the desk. The walls were painted a light gray color, and on the wall behind the desk hung the portrait of Doralice that used to adorn Maude's office, the picture I'd admired so much the very first time I saw it. "What . . . what is this?" I stuttered.

"It's your new office," she told me, and I remembered Bret coming to the saloon several weeks ago to help Maude with a 'project.'

"I don't know what to say."

Cristian, ever one for the understatement, said quietly, "I think thank you is appropriate."

I quickly nodded. "Thank you. I don't know why you did it, but thank you."

"Because it wouldn't do for my Floor Manager, my partner, to not have an office. And it gives you someplace to rest when it gets to be too much out front. Go sit down. Try out the chair and see how you like it."

I hobbled around the desk and sat down behind it. The chair had a good feel, almost like it had been made just for me. When I looked up, I saw Doralice in the doorway watching everything. She wore a smile nearly as beatific as the one in the portrait. I ran my hand across the desk, and the feel of the wood was warm and rich. "It's beautiful, Maude. I really . . . I'm really overwhelmed."

"You look like you belong there," Doralice remarked.

I sighed. This was what I'd been fighting against my whole life, staying in one place and doing a 'job.' Yet sitting behind this desk felt perfectly natural, and not at all restrictive. Had I changed that much over the years? I glanced back at Doralice and knew the answer. Love, real honest to goodness love, had changed me. No matter where life took me in the future, I would always come back to this place and this woman. My woman. My wife.

XXXXXXXX

Another week passed, and I was gettin' stronger all the time. I had to – I had things still left to do before the wedding, and the twenty-ninth of June was fast approaching. I hadn't gotten the Bible I wanted as a wedding present, so I got over to see Hank Freeley at Freeley's Emporium and had one ordered. And I swore Hank to secrecy. It had a white leather binding and gold-edged pages and Hank sent word to me on the Monday before the wedding that my order had arrived. I was finally able to walk around town without a chaperone, so I set out the next morning to collect it.

While I was out I stopped by Sam Humphries shop for a final fitting of the black silk and gold waistcoat I'd had him make for me. It fit perfectly, as did everything Sam made, and we spent a few minutes chatting about nothing in particular when the subject of Buckley came up. "He was in here twice last week," Sam told me.

"Oh? Buying more clothes?" I asked out of idle curiosity.

"As a matter of fact, yes. Two more coats with waistcoats, and four or five shirts."

"Did he charge 'em to me?" Sounded like Dandy was gettin' ready to leave town.

Sam shook his head. "Nope. Paid cash for the whole lot."

That was troubling. The only reason I could see for Dandy to pay cash was . . . he didn't want me to know about the purchase. While I mulled that over Sam reminded me that I'd never decided on a shirt for the wedding and he had two or three silk shirts with ruffles he thought would look good with the waistcoat. I agreed to take a look and kept running the Buckley situation through my head while Sam retrieved them. There was one in particular that I liked, and by the time I'd bought it I made up my mind to go have another talk with Randy at Maude's.

"Hey, Bart, gettin' close now, ain't it?" Randy asked as he poured me a cup of coffee.

"Yeah, Randy, I can't hardly wait. Sit with me a minute, would ya?"

We went to a table, and I brought up the subject we'd discussed the last time I saw him – whether Buckley was cheatin' or not. "I haven't heard anything else, to be honest," Randy told me. "Course that don't mean there's none goin' on. Just nobody's complainin' about it."

"You noticed anything else unusual?" I might have been grasping at straws, but I wanted a clear mindset about the whole situation.

"Well . . . Miz Donovan said somethin' about the books not comin' out right."

"Doralice or Maude?"

"Miz Doralice. Said she just couldn't get things to come out right. That was two or three days ago, but she hasn't said nothin' since then."

Doralice was in her office, having come in to give Maude some help before she ran off to do her wedding errands. She was frowning at the ledgers opened in front of her, but she looked up and smiled when I knocked. "Hi ya, beautiful. Problems?"

"Sort of. I promised I'd get last night's receipts reconciled with the books and deposited for Maude before I left, but I just can't make them right. And I've got to get . . . well, let's just say I've got someplace to be and I'm running late."

"Want me to take a look at it? I've got time."

"Normally I wouldn't do that to you, but . . . thanks, lover." She stood up and grabbed everything in one big armful. "Come on; let's try out your new office."

I followed her like an obedient puppy until we got to my office, then I unlocked the door. I would have carried everything myself but I was still wielding the cane, even though disposing of it for good was gettin' closer all the time. She left it all on my brand new desk and gave me a big kiss. "I'll be back in about an hour. If you can't find it, we'll turn it back over to Maude to figure out. Love you." And she scooted out the door before I could say "Me, too."

I sat down and settled in, and started from the beginning. It had been a while since I'd done any of the bookwork for a saloon, especially one of this size, but it didn't take too long before I was comfortable with what I was lookin' at. It didn't take too much longer before I was uncomfortable with what I was lookin' at. And a sickening feeling started in the pit of my stomach that wouldn't stop, and within a short period of time I'd confirmed what I suspected . . . Jim was skimming money from the saloon.


	11. Go Now

Chapter 11 – Go Now

The sick feeling in the pit of my stomach only got worse, but I made myself go over everything I'd just discovered until there was absolutely no doubt. Not counting what Jim may or may not have gained by cheating when he was playin' poker on his own, he'd managed to siphon off a little over fourteen hundred dollars in the last ten days.

My first impulse was to find him and kill him. How many times, how many ways had I told him not to do the very thing he was doing? Since I had nowhere to hide the body and didn't want to hang, I decided that was a bad idea. My second impulse was to beat the living daylights out of him. I discarded that notion because I was gettin' married in just a few days and I didn't want to explain any cuts or bruises I might incur while trying my best NOT to beat him to death. My third impulse . . . well, that was the one I ended up listenin' to. I'd replace the missing money out of my own pocket and run my soon-to-be-ex friend out of town as fast as possible.

That served more than one purpose. Maude and Doralice both thought he was a funny, charming fellow, and they'd be allowed to retain that illusion until I told them the truth. If I ever did. Bret wouldn't be able to say ' _I told you so'_ until I was so sick of hearing it that I never wanted to see my brother again. And I could marry the woman I loved in something other than abject humiliation for having tried to do a favor for everyone, Jim included.

Did I have that much money? Yes, I did, and the last thing I wanted to do was part with it. I still had his hotel bill to pay, but I wasn't about to let Maude suffer the consequences for something I'd caused. This was turning into a painful and expensive lesson, and I was beginning to believe that everything Bret thought about Dandy was the gospel truth.

I pulled out my wallet and gritted my teeth. I counted it out loud as a reminder that I was never going to believe or believe in Dandy Jim Buckley again, as long as I lived. "One thousand, eleven hundred, twelve hundred, thirteen hundred, fourteen hundred, twenty, forty, fifty. Fourteen hundred and fifty dollars." My wallet stared at me, dangerously close to empty. I finished last night's deposit and balanced the ledger, then left everything else on my desk and made my way to the bank. Once the deposit was made, I began my search for Dandy.

I went to the hotel first, but he wasn't in his room. I informed the front desk that Mr. Buckley would be checking out that afternoon, and I paid the bill and left strict instructions that if he wasn't gone by evening any charges he incurred were his responsibility. The day clerk informed me that Mr. Buckley had said something about going to the livery, and I headed there next.

I found Jim negotiating the purchase of a buckskin gelding and gear. He didn't see me until I was almost beside him, and it took him but a moment to read my expression. "Bart, old boy. Something wrong?"

"Finish your business, Buckley, and then you're coming with me." I'd gotten hold of his right elbow and wasn't letting go.

"Um, I have things to do this afternoon. Can't it wait?"

"There's only one thing you have to do this afternoon, and that's leave town."

Thank God, Jim didn't play stupid and act like he didn't understand what I was telling him. "I see. Mr. Whitley, I'll be by later to pick up my horse. Thank you for taking care of him until then." Buckley turned and faced me. "Where to?"

"Your hotel. The room is paid for, you need to pack up and get out."

"I can't just . . . "

I hobbled away from the livery, dragging Buckley with me. "Oh yes, you can. And you will."

"Will you . . . "

"No." I cut him off. "I don't want to hear anything you have to say."

We made our way in silence to the hotel, and up the steps to his room. "Open it," I demanded.

"Bart . . . " he started again. I shoved him as hard as I could through the open door.

"Shut up and pack." And for almost five minutes Dandy did just that, while I sat and seethed. Finally, I could stand it no longer. "You came to me and begged me for a job. You promised to play it straight, and be honest. You know how important these people are to me, and what a risk I was takin' to give you that position. I believed you, Jim. I trusted you."

Suddenly Bret's words rang in my ears. _'A snake can shed its skin, but it's still a snake. And Buckley's always gonna be Buckley. I just hope you're not the one that gets bit.'_ And that's exactly what had happened. I'd been bit, and bit good.

"I didn't think . . . "

Again I cut him off. "I don't wanna hear anything you've got to say. This is supposed to be the best time of my life. I've finally found the right woman and I'm fixin' to marry her, and you come along and beg me for a job. Bret wanted me to toss you out and let you fend for yourself. But I had to help. I had to help. And this is the thanks I get."

It took me a minute to realize that Jim had finished packing and was standing there watching me. I'd finally run out of things to say and was willing to listen . . . at least for a minute. "Done?"

"For now," I answered, weary beyond words.

"Sorry I'll miss the wedding."

I waited for something more, but he had nothing more to say. Maybe there was nothing more he could say. I stood up and motioned towards the door. "Let's go." We walked in silence, again, down the stairs and out the doors, back towards the livery. Herb Whitley must have seen us coming, because the buckskin was saddled and ready to go. Jim swung his bag up on the saddle and then mounted the horse, and when he looked down at me he had a wistful look on his face. "Goodbye, Bart. Give Doralice my best."

"Don't come back, Jim." I smacked the gelding on the rump and he took off. I watched to make sure that there was no turning around, no looking back, until horse and rider disappeared from view. Goodbye, Dandy Jim Buckley. I hope someday I can forget how you betrayed me and our friendship.

TBC


	12. Looking Ahead

Chapter 12 – Looking Ahead

I walked back to Maude's slowly. I'd never felt so empty. Dandy might not have been an ongoing presence in my life, but we'd had a lot of good times. Some bad, too, but none that stayed forefront in my mind. This time . . . this time was different. I wasn't sure I was ever gonna get past this . . . betrayal.

So many things going through my head. First and foremost . . . Doralice. Like I said before, she'd found him funny and charming, and there was no way I was going to do anything to shatter that illusion. Which meant I had to find an excuse for his leavin', and find it fast.

Faster than I even expected, since I saw my girl as soon as I went through the batwing doors. She wore a startled look on her face that quickly turned into a big smile, and it took me a minute to understand what the smile was for. "Your cane!' she exclaimed.

I didn't realize that somewhere during this long day I'd abandoned the cane. I'd have to go back and retrace my steps, but not now. "Guess I left it somewhere," I told Doralice as I gathered her into my arms and kissed her. "I've been a little distracted."

"I see you got the bank deposits all straightened out. Where'd you find the error?"

"The records are in my office. Come on, I'll show you." I'd prepared for her questions. It took a bit of maneuvering with the books, but I'd managed to cover up Buckley's duplicity. When I opened the office door, not only did we find everything as I'd left it, but my cane was leaning up against the desk. "Ah, there it is," I remarked.

I showed her the reconstructed books before sitting down behind my desk. She looked everything over and then told me, "At least you can go home and get some rest now."

It was then I shook my head. "I can't. We need somebody on the floor tonight."

"But we have . . . "

"No, we don't," I interrupted. "Jim had a family emergency and had to leave town. I'll work."

"No. Bret's supposed to be here at four o'clock to do somethin' for Maude. He can work it. You look exhausted."

Great. Like Bret wouldn't jump to any conclusions about what had actually happened. Well, I was just gonna have to deal with my brother and his skepticism. "Let's get the ledgers back to your office," I told Doralice, and we gathered everything up and took them back where they came from. We'd just put everything away when Bret entered the saloon, and Doralice went to talk to him. I could see him smiling and nodding before he went into Maude's office and closed the door.

Doralice looked happy when she came back. "We can go home, Bart. Bret is gonna work the floor tonight. When he's done talking to Maude he's gonna come by the house for a few minutes, and then come back here at six o'clock." She hooked her arm through mine. "Let's go."

By the time we got home I was exhausted. I sat down in the front room and was quickly asleep, not waking until I heard a knock at the front door. I was awake immediately, even as the door opened and Bret entered.

"Bart. What happened with Buckley?"

"Blue eyes, can you give me a minute with my brother?" Doralice never said a word, but there was a look in her eyes I hadn't seen before. She went into the spare bedroom and closed the door.

"Jim had to get out of town in a hurry."

"Why?"

"Somebody that wasn't supposed to be able to find him came lookin' for him."

Bret thought for a minute. "Somebody he owed money to."

"Yep."

"Who?"

I shook my head. "I don't know for certain, Bret. He didn't say."

"He comin' back?"

"No."

"So . . . I can take the job until Saturday. Then my brother's gettin' married." And Bret laughed. Thank the Lord, my brother laughed. For whatever reason, he decided not to push me on the Buckley situation, and I was grateful.

"Thanks. And thanks for not givin' me a bad time about Dandy."

"Why should I? I'm happy he's gone."

Bret went to the spare room and opened the door. "You can come out now, sweetheart. We're not gonna yell at each other after all."

I could hear Doralice giggling. "Good. Nobody should be upset this close to a wedding. Especially ours."

"Now what's so special about ours?" I asked.

My beautiful, blue-eyed blonde giggled again. "Just that. It's ours."

Made perfect sense to me.

The End


End file.
